Ripe summer days
Juicy with laughter and joy
Dangle from the thin branches
Above my head
So luscious and soft that they drip
Onto my nose

I tuck my hands
Behind my head, lacing fingers
As I once did behind my crew cut
As I still do behind a mane
Of dreadlocks and dirt

And so I stare up
At the ripe fruit on the bare branches
The snow sinks into my thighs, my neck, my chest
Fresh, cool water from above
Sprinklers in the green laughter